


Breakfast at Bobby's

by Daylight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daylight/pseuds/Daylight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning, sunlight, bare feet, pyjamas, old house, memories, coffee, breakfast, angel, hunter, brothers, family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast at Bobby's

The sheets were clean, musty but clean which was a rare luxury. Even the mustiness was welcome causing Sam to dig deeper into his pillow. It was a familiar mustiness part of that which permeated all of Bobby's home, a smell of dust and wood and old books occasionally broken by the tang of gasoline and metal from the salvage yard outside. It was a contrast to the usual smells he woke to. The motels they frequented tended to have a smell which was a combination of mildew, industrial cleaners, rotting food and urine, each motel with its own particular mix. It was just another part of life he'd long gotten used to. But here the smells brought back memories of childhood explorations through a maze of twisted wrecks and adult explorations through the brittle pages of leather bound books, memories that were accompanied by feelings of peace and safety. Feelings that were so rare these days it wasn't surprising he felt like he'd just had his first decent sleep in months.

Sam turned over indulging in the softness of the mattress, another luxury, and squinted over at the other bed in the small room. Except for a crumpled pile of sheets and quilts, it was empty. He sat up rubbing his eyes taking in the dim morning light that crept through the dirty window pane. The room was like most in the house. Between the dusty paintings and old fashioned light fixtures, the walls were covered in faded wallpaper with a pattern of azure flowers on forest green. The dark, panelled floor had a frayed oriental rug, the wood furnishings were chipped and scratched, and every corner was crammed with books. Those that didn't fit in the overflowing bookshelves were piled on top the dresser and on the floor.

Only two things separated this room from the rest of the house. First instead of newspaper clippings and drawings of ancient symbols pinned to the few visible bits of wall, there were photos of Sam and Dean as kids. Second was the closet. Instead of containing occult paraphernalia or even more books, it held boxes of old clothes, randomly collected memorabilia and even some well loved toys. All stuff the Winchesters couldn't take with them as they drove across the country. The brothers might only visit Bobby a few times each year, but this room for all intents and purposes was theirs.

Yawning, Sam pulled back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. His bare feet hit against the duffle bag dumped at the side before resting on the cold floor. It was a cool morning but the warmth of sleep still clung to him. He lurched upward and stumbled towards the door. It squeaked slightly as it opened. The hallway beyond was covered in dark wood panelling matching the floors. Sunlight through the stained glass window at the end gave it an odd orange glow. Sam made his way across to the bathroom. Once done there, he decided not to bother getting dressed and headed downstairs in search of breakfast still in his gray T-shirt and dark pyjamas pants. The steps made familiar creaking noises under his bare feet and he could almost hear the echo of children tumbling down them.

A loud thud and banging greeted him before the kitchen was even in sight. It was accompanied by muttered curses. Passing through the cluttered library and into the green and white kitchen, Sam found his brother also still dressed in sleepwear, black T-shirt and navy plaid pants, and currently doing battle with the coffee maker.

"Is it possessed?" Sam asked eyebrow raised.

Dean turned to him with a grimace. "Wouldn't surprise me," he replied giving it another shake.

Observing Dean carefully, Sam was pleased to note that despite being up early and being at war with a kitchen appliance, his sleep rumpled brother looked well rested and relaxed. Sleeping in a familiar bed obviously did wonders. He caught Dean looking him over with the exact same scrutinizing gaze and nodding to himself. Sam guessed he passed inspection.

"Maybe you should try to keep it down. You don't want to wake Bobby."

"Well, if he does wake up, maybe he can tell me how this damn demented thing is supposed to work." Dean brought his fist down one more time and it suddenly began making happy humming and gurgling noises. "Ah, ha!" he cried and turned to Sam with a self-satisfied smirk. "Knew I could fix it."

"Sure," Sam said with a sarcastic nod, but he grinned too. He was glad to see a smile on Dean's face that for once actually reached his eyes.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Dean fetched down some mugs while Sam padded over to the front door and pulled it open. Outside, the piles of wrecked cars stood silent, a morning mist still clinging to the ground in the distance. The sun had barely made it over the horizon shinning dimly through some thin clouds. Sam took a deep breath of the cool fresh air.

"Do you mind, Sasquatch?" Dean called out. "Some of us don't have big hairy feet like you do and are freezing our toes off."

Sam sighed and gave his brother an indulgent smile as he shut the door. Wandering back towards him, he sat down at the table smacking the wood surface with the palm of his hand. "Hand over the coffee then, Tiny."

"Just for that you get Bobby's special mug," said Dean handing him his coffee in a white mug which said 'World's Biggest Bastard' in red lettering.

Sam snorted, but decided he'd rather drink the coffee than bother retaliating. He took a sip absently noting the mug already contained the exact amount of cream and sugar he preferred. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Dean was drinking what Sam knew for certain to be coffee that was black and strong as humanly possible. Suddenly, Dean glanced up and smiled at something behind Sam. The younger brother looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see Castiel standing there. He'd forgotten the angel had stayed the night. He'd even passed right by him asleep on the deep red couch in the library without noticing.

"Good morning," Cas stated formally.

"Morning," the brothers chorused in unison.

Technically, angels shouldn't need sleep, but since Castiel had rebelled and been cut off from heaven's power, they'd found that if Cas was injured badly or overused his powers, his body needed rest and recuperation just as if he were human. And unfortunately, since Cas still wasn't used to his new limitations, he tended to overdo things fairly often. At that point, it was best to lead him over to a bed or couch before he keeled over, though recently Castiel seemed to be developing a fondness for sleeping in the back of the Impala.

Yesterday had been a rare occasion. Not only had Castiel slept, but Dean had also somehow convinced the angel to change out of his normal suit and into some of Dean's old clothes. It was a contrast to his normal appearance making Cas appear smaller and much more human. The white T-shirt was worn and dingy and the gray sweatpants were too long, the frayed ends dragging behind his heels. That combined with the dark hair spiking up at odd angles forced Sam to hide a smile in his cup of coffee. Castiel's expression and posture, of course, continued to belie his physical appearance. His stance remained stiff and his blue-eyed stare intense in a way that might very well have freaked out a normal human being, but to Sam it was becoming comfortingly familiar.

The angel gracefully slid into a chair beside the younger Winchester.

"Hey, Cas," said Dean with a grin. "How 'bout some coffee?"

Castiel frowned at him.

Sam shook his head. "You really have to stop trying to corrupt him."

"Dude, it's just coffee."

"Fine," replied Sam holding up his hands. "But don't blame me if he develops a caffeine addiction."

The angel glanced from one brother to the other.

"It's not that addictive," Dean insisted handing him a mug. "Go on. Try some. I dare you."

Picking it up, Cas took a tentative sip his forehead furrowing once more. "It's not unpleasant," he finally concluded.

Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam shook his head again. The angel had an almost worryingly tendency to do whatever Dean said, at least when it came to human experiences. Sam would have to do his best to counter that. Standing up, he grabbed the sugar and cream from the counter and returned to put a healthy helping of both in Castiel's coffee.

"Dude, I'll stop trying to corrupt Cas if you stop trying to turn him into a pansy."

Ignoring Dean, Sam watched as Cas retried the coffee. The angel closed his eyes for a moment letting out a pleased 'mmm'.

Both brothers wore matching grins.

"You better not be letting that angel of yours drink all my coffee," said Bobby as he wheeled into the room.

Sam automatically tucked his feet out of the way as the old hunter went past. It wasn't that Bobby couldn't easily manoeuvre around them, he just seemed to be of the opinion that if you were stupid enough to leave your toes in his way, you deserved to have them run over.

There must be something in the air that morning Sam decided as he noted even Bobby remained barefoot wearing gray sweatpants under an old red plaid shirt, though, of course, the ever present trucker's cap still remained on his head. Sam found himself fighting another grin as he recalled a childhood debate with his brother over whether Bobby slept with the hat on. It had ended in a midnight excursion and an embarrassing capture, but it was a fond memory.

"We were just introducing Cas to another one of life's iniquities," explained Dean as he handed the old hunter a steaming mug.

"Uh huh," replied Bobby before taking a long draught of the coffee. He let out a long satisfied sigh. "I don't suppose one of you yahoos bothered to fetch the paper."

Both Sam and Dean quickly avoided his gaze neither wanting to be the one who had to leave the warm kitchen and brave the long cold walk down the driveway, but Castiel's eyes instead grew distant. The angel held his hand out over the center of the table and with a flash of light, a folded newspaper suddenly appeared.

"Show-off," Dean muttered.

Grunting in thanks, Bobby grabbed the paper and unfolded it scanning the headlines. Sam's eyes slid over to the paper but he forced them back before he actually focused on the print. He wasn't ready for the outside world to intrude. In another hour, they'd be back in the thick of research, back to blood and death, guilt and regret, the devil and the apocalypse. But now, he just wanted to drink his coffee.

Bobby seemed to be of the same mind tossing the paper away after a few minutes and heading for the fridge. "You boys up for eggs and sausage for breakfast."

"Always," exclaimed Dean.

But Sam's forehead furrowed. "Are you sure you don't want us to…"

Bobby silenced him with a look. "You're not about to suggest that one of you cook?"

"Well…" Sam rubbed the back of his head.

"When was the last time either of you actually cooked something?"

Sam glanced at Dean who met his gaze with a shrug.

"I recall Dean used to make a mean bowl of spaghettios," Sam finally volunteered.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "He can do the toast." Turning around to grab the needed ingredients from the fridge, he called over his shoulder, "Hey, Feathers. You eating?"

Castiel looked up from where he'd been staring at his coffee. His elbows were leaning on the table top, both hands wrapped around his mug, seemingly enjoying the warmth more than the actual drinking.

"I do not require sustenance."

"You sure?" countered Dean eyeing the angel.

Sam had to agree with his brother. If Cas couldn't tell when he needed to sleep, he doubted the angel would even know if he was hungry.

Cas shrugged which was an oddly human gesture for him.

"Well, I'd rather not have you just sitting there staring at us. So, you're eating," Bobby declared as he set up the frying pan.

Castiel opened his mouth to protest but Sam stopped him putting a hand on his arm. "Don't bother. You can't say no when Bobby offers you food."

"Yeah," added Dean as he helped himself to some more coffee. "It's one of the rules."

"Rules?"

"The rules you have to obey if you want to stay at Bobby's," Sam explained with a grin.

Gulping down more caffeine, Dean nodded. "Like no climbing the stacked cars."

"No messing up the order of Bobby's books."

"No joyriding in cars Bobby's fixing up."

"No stealing Bobby's hat."

Castiel frowned. "Why would I want to do any of that?"

"Those rules," said Bobby his voice rising over the sizzling frying pan, "are just for idiotic little Winchester boys who can't seem to stay out of trouble."

Both Sam and Dean stared sheepishly at the ground but their lips twitched with smothered laughter.

"I will do my best not to emulate them," Castiel said.

"Too late, Cas," said Sam leaning forward. "I think Dean's already been a pretty bad influence on you."

"Hey," protested Dean putting down his mug. "What do you mean bad?"

Ignoring his brother, Sam continued. "Considering all the trouble you've been getting into recently. I think you're well on your way to becoming a Winchester."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Just what I need, another one."

Castiel gave them a puzzled look as if he couldn't decide whether or not this was a good thing. It caused both Sam and Dean to finally break into laughter.

The rest of the breakfast preparation continued in silence. While Bobby finished cooking the food, Dean managed to make some edible toast, Castiel remembered he was supposed to drink his coffee, and Sam brought out the cutlery and plates. Savoury smells spread throughout the kitchen. Once all the plates were full, they settled around the table. Dean began digging in the moment his butt hit his seat. In contrast, Cas carefully examined his food from every angle before taking small bites. Bobby brought out the newspaper again paying more attention to it then the food he was eating. Sam was all ready to dig in too when one of the headlines on the paper caught his eye, his brain automatically reading it before he could stop.

1066 Die in Earthquake

And Sam felt his stomach sink, his appetite leaving him. It was just an earthquake he told himself. Earthquakes happened naturally all the time. There was no reason it had anything to do with Lucifer or the apocalypse. But even as he told himself that, he could feel the weight of those 1066 souls on his conscience. And suddenly, the air went from cool to icy, the smells turned stifling, the sunlight became too dim, and the house was just old and dirty instead of full of memories. Sam stared at the lumps of grease and fat on his plate unable to find the motivation to pick up his fork.

"Hey."

Looking up, Sam found Dean snapping his fingers at him from across the table. Concern shone from his eyes though he didn't let it show on the rest of his face.

"Stop pouting princess. Your food's getting cold."

The younger Winchester sighed. "I'm not pouting."

"Are too," countered Dean. "New rule: No moping at breakfast."

"You can't make rules. Only Bobby can make rules."

Dean turned to the old hunter. "Bobby?"

"No moping at breakfast," repeated Bobby not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

Turning back to Sam, Dean gave a large smirk. "There you go."

Sam snorted shaking his head at his brother.

When Sam's expression didn't improve, Dean waved his fork at the angel. "Cas, hit Sam on the back of the head for me."

Castiel leaned back glancing from one brother to the other with a look of confusion. "Why?"

"It'll stop his moping."

"That is unlikely."

"It's a proven technique."

"I'm not hitting Sam."

"Come on. It's too far for me to reach and he needs a good slap."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

As the debate went on, Sam glanced over at Bobby who met his gaze with a look of exasperation, but Sam could see the grin at the corner of his mouth and in his eyes, and soon found he was unable to stop himself grinning too. Dean seemed too intent on the conversation to really notice, but Sam thought he caught the hint of a sly smirk on his brother's face.

Sam took a deep breath and looked around. The sun had reached the height of the windows and a sunbeam lit the faded green paint on the kitchen walls. Piles of books crept in at the corners from the overflowing library and beneath the smells of sausages and coffee, the ever present mustiness of Bobby's home still lingered. So while Dean and Cas continued to argue and Bobby turned to another page of his paper, Sam picked up his fork and began to eat.


End file.
